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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26709814">Roof, And Rooms</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfNewOrleans22/pseuds/QueenOfNewOrleans22'>QueenOfNewOrleans22</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Roses And Wine [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Bon Jovi (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Fluff, Introspection, M/M, Sexual Content</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 06:49:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,233</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26709814</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfNewOrleans22/pseuds/QueenOfNewOrleans22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"What is-" Richie motioned vaguely to the sky, the stars. "-this?" </p><p>Jon looked up, frowning. "What?" </p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jon Bon Jovi/Richie Sambora</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Roses And Wine [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1943791</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Roof, And Rooms</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Roses And Wine- Part One- Sydney, Australia </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>"What is-" Richie motioned vaguely to the sky, the stars. "-this?" </p><p>Jon looked up, frowning. "What?" </p><p>As if frustrated by the designated confusion, Richie scowled and motioned frantically in the air. "<em>This." </em>He repeated, like it was a word that couldn't be understood, an alien language that only he knew. "I want to know what <em>this </em>is, why we're here, why the fuck, out of everybody in this crazy world, I'm the one that landed here, in this decade, with you." </p><p>Smiling thinly, Jon pat Richie's shoulder sympathetically. "Why?" </p><p>The night was thick and full, a land of impossibilities and the heavy unknown. </p><p>Everybody else- Tico, David, Alec- were asleep, tucked in their beds after a long day and extended night, content to fall into a peaceful oblivion until the sun would rise and they would have to make their way into a whole new place. </p><p>"Don't you?" Richie said, desperation beginning to crawl into his voice, like a child who wasn't getting what he wanted. </p><p>Jon shrugged. </p><p>They were on the roof, despite the chilly air, and the exhaustion, clear and present. </p><p>Neither of them could sleep. </p><p>"Like, I'm not complaining, but why didn't you just go with Sabo? How did I end up here?" Richie was getting himself riled up, chasing circles that never would end. "If Sabo didn't leave, then I wouldn't have joined, and this wouldn't be happening." </p><p>"I know." Jon agreed. </p><p>But the agreement only seemed to aggravate Richie further, and he waved his hands once more before sighing. "Fuck, I'm drunk." He muttered, burying his face in his hands. </p><p>It wasn't a real surprise, nor a shock, so no true reaction could be discerned. </p><p>Jon frowned, and kissed Richie's cheek, smoothing back his lover's dark brown hair. "We should get back inside." </p><p>Back to a hotel that seemed so big, and so dark. Back to a room where the wind creeped in through the cracks beneath the door. Back to a life of constant motion. </p><p>Richie nodded, looking out toward the city below. "Yeah, okay." </p><p>Slowly, they stood up, standing close together, chilled skin, and chapped lips pressing together in a chaste kiss that lasted a second more than usual, as if lavishing the brief few seconds that could be held close and cherished. </p><p>Australia was certainly an interesting place, but nothing could be enjoyed due to the high levels of exhaustion that all of the band members were having to go through. Everybody was constantly on the go, having to do one thing or another, rushing to please the fans and management when all they wanted to do was relax, sleep, sit down and let themselves breathe for just five fucking seconds. </p><p>They'd been touring non-stop since their big breakthrough, and nobody knew why. The massive popularity of the band was certainly a key to the mystery, but at any point, they could've stopped, and regrouped themselves. </p><p>But that wasn't what the show business was about. </p><p>"Don't make me take the stairs." Richie said, planting his feet firmly on the ground and standing strong. "I'm too drunk for the stairs." </p><p>Jon glanced at the elevators, his lip curling. "I ain't taking that death trap." He replied without room for argument. </p><p>On any other night, Richie might've persisted with his stance, but the idea of arguing wasn't appealing, and neither was anything else but collapsing into bed, so they began a rather awkward descent, clutching the railing and praying that nobody came along and spotted them. </p><p>Not that anybody would take a look at the singer and his guitarists and automatically assume that they were lovers, but nobody could be sure.</p><p>In a world where anything was possible, you couldn't take chances. </p><p>Their boots thumped against the concrete stairs, uttered whispers hushed in the growing darkness. Jon brushed his hair away from his face, squinted, and turned around. "What are you going on about?" He asked in a tone that could <em>almost </em>be considered judgemengal, but was mostly just tired and a little amused. </p><p>Richie opened his mouth, snickered, and shook his head. "Nothing, don't mind me." He said, wrapping his arms around Jon's bony shoulders and practically falling down the last step. "I drank <em>way </em>too much, baby." And, with that, Richie dramatically gasped, and pretended to sway, like a damsel in distress, only he was far from danger, and certainly not a woman. "Oh no, how will I play tomorrow?" </p><p>Jon grinned just briefly enough to show his teeth before taking another step. "You hav'ta, 'cause I don't have any other guitarists lined up." </p><p>"Oh, please. Like you don't have Sabo's phone number." Richie said. </p><p>They finally reached the bottom, a triumph that felt better than it should've. "He ain't you." Jon replied, pushing open the door and forcing Richie out into the hallway. </p><p>Richie stuck his chin up. "Nobody's like me." He boasted, finally gathering enough control over himself to stumble back to the rooms without aid. </p><p>Jon chuckled. "In bed, on stage, or just you?" He asked, digging through his jacket for the keys to their rooms. Nobody else would dare wander the halls at such an hour, and Richie must've known it, because he felt brave enough to duck his head and kiss Jon's neck, nipping with his teen at the sensitive skin. Jon gasped, startled, and then he managed to retrieve the keys. "Stop distractin' me, man." </p><p>"All three." Richie said proudly, keeping himself under control long enough for Jon to unlock his door and step inside before he grabbed the younger man and pushed him up against the wall, taking care to be gentle, but not for long. </p><p>Jon sighed. "The door, Richie." He said. </p><p>Richie waved the words away but agreeably kicked the door shut, and locked it, just to be sure. "We could've done this on the roof, y'know." </p><p>"The roof? I'm not an animal." Jon said, hooking his arms around Richie's shoulders and pulling himself up for an eager kiss. </p><p>Chuckling softly, Richie began to pull Jon's jacket off, ready to make use of the body that was presented at will. "That's what you say." </p><p>It was almost impressive, the way that they were able to strip away every inch of clothing while not removing their roaming hands, but it was also routine. </p><p>The worry of what they were doing, underlying shock that what they <em>thought </em>they were wasn't truly <em>what </em>they were, had long fallen away. And even if it hadn't, their fast pace that didn't leave room for any straggling thoughts, made sure of that. </p><p>Richie was slow, Jon was quick, but there was a silent agreement, and it worked. </p><p><em>They </em>worked. </p><p>"Have you ever thought about that?" Richie asked. </p><p>Jon, who don't really like to talk while doing such things, only hummed in question. </p><p>"We work well in everything; during concerts, while writing songs, while getting down and dirty, you name it." Richie was practically listing them off the top of his head while simultaneously switching places with Jon because, sometimes, the positions that worked yesterday didn't work today. </p><p>"If only we worked so well whenever we play board games." Jon said.</p><p>And Richie laughed. </p><p>In less than an hour, they would be asleep, unprepared for the next day, but sure that it would be another day in chaotic paradise. </p><p>They had asked for it, after all. </p>
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